


Blond hair and black leather, his favourite colour scheme...

by ThreeMagpies



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Town, Blackout AU, Creepy Crows, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Leather Kink, Shameless Smut, charloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeMagpies/pseuds/ThreeMagpies
Summary: A Revolution fic: Charloe, Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson; Bass and Charlie are on the road to Willoughby (the first time) and come across an abandoned town, go searching for new clothes and find a very interesting shop.This is a story in the same universe as another story of mine, ‘Ride, ride my see saw’. Bass and Charlie have been lovers since Charlie went hunting for Bass and found him in that New Vegas tent prize-fighting for Ely Gould – and where her need to kill him turned into need of a different kind.  They’ve been on the road for a couple of weeks to join Miles and the others even though Charlie isn’t sure she’s ready to go back to face her uneasy relationship with her mother. But it might be the only way to have a chance against the Patriots, and at least she knows now that if things don’t go well in Willoughby with Miles and Rachael, and if she decided to leave again, Bass would leave with her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AN:  
> I was having a look at my works on FF and realised that I hadn’t posted this little birthday present for Lemon Supreme (from a couple of years ago) to the archive. So, here it is, after a little editing. Thanks so much for having a look and I hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> The name of the shop in the story is taken from a line in the song ‘1952 Vincent Black Lightening’ by Richard Thompson, and the title of the story is adapted from the same lyrics (especially for Charlie and Bass). I don’t own any part of Revolution and am writing this purely for love of the show and its characters.

Even after more than fifteen years Bass found walking down the empty streets of abandoned pre-blackout towns in what would have been the morning rush hour disturbing, even eerie.

It was different for Charlie, she'd grown up with the landscape of deserted towns and the wreckage of the old world and seemed to have no problem ignoring the strangeness of it. She was walking beside him looking around with a casual interest and a scavengers eye. 

To him, the everyday sounds of a busy modern city centre, the background hum of voices, cars and car horns, buses and trucks, the beeps of pedestrian crossings and the odd siren seemed to echo just out of reach. And the memory of people in particular, people everywhere, hurrying along, going to work, shopping, eating, coffee cup in one hand, phone in the other, carrying their bags and innocently and carelessly minding their own business as though their world would never, could never end. 

It still had the power to make him feel sad and kind of nostalgic…

He looked around. The wide street was dusty with the occasional green of straggling weeds and grasses making their way up through cracks in the sidewalk and bitumen. Small shrubs, trees and vines crowded up against and sometimes completely covered the walls, windows and rooves of the falling down shops, cafés, offices, public and apartment buildings in the town centre and the sounds of birds and the rustle of small animal movements were everywhere. The place had once been beautiful, a smart country town bustling with golden age retirees and well heeled couples looking for a tree change out of the major cities…now there were just a few rusting SUV’s and a Lexus or two lying around looking sad and broken – too difficult or too damaged to re-purpose, if there was anyone left who wanted to use them of course.

Something caught his eye and he looked up, seeing two crows perched on one of the spreading branches of a huge oak tree on a green island in the middle of the crossroads just ahead of them. The tree was so big and spread so far that he and Charlie were already under the far flung tips of its branches. The birds, their heads cocked at identical angles looked back at him, their black eyes unblinking and alien. He stared back, but they didn’t move, didn’t seem scared of human presence… Then, at an unspoken signal they turned away, and with a loud clatter of wings the big black birds flew off. 

Charlie had also spotted the crows, hands reaching automatically for her bow, ‘don’t usually see Crows this far south…’ She shrugged, the big, black birds weren’t especially good eating but their presence often indicated that there was other, tastier prey close by. She made a mental note to look for rabbit tracks later. Then she saw something a bit further down the road. ’Bass?’ 

They’d left the wagon a little out of town and off the road, horses tethered in reach of good grazing and water. If they found trouble and had to leave in a hurry, it’d be much quicker and easier to escape on foot, but they both very badly needed supplies and new clothes – and boots. Charlie’s tank tops and jeans were almost falling off her and Bass – even with the extra pair left in the wagon by Adam the bounty hunter – was also feeling the wind blowing through the holes in his jeans as they rolled along in the wagon. They’d been hoping to find a market somewhere in town but the whole place looked completely abandoned, they hadn’t even been able to make out the name of the town on the fallen ‘Welcome to…’ sign.

He turned to her, skin tanned a golden brown, his eyes looking incredibly blue and crinkled at the corners in the dappled sunlight under the oak leaves, his hair curling in tight bronze and dirty blonde waves, heavy with sweat in the heat of the day. Drops of moisture running down his throat to the smooth chest.

She caught his gaze with her own and smiled back. God he looked good. A flashback to last night sent a flush of blood racing to her cheeks and a sizzle between her legs that just kept on going…

He saw it, of course he did and reached out a hand, long fingers spreading over her neck under the long strands of her hair, his arm resting over her shoulders in a casual gesture that would have been unthinkable between them just a few short weeks ago. 

She rubbed her cheek on the warm, hard muscled skin of his forearm then lifted up a hand and pointed down the road in front of them, ’look, over there…’ 

Bass peered along her arm and grinned, ‘definitely worth checking out, Charlie.’ She’d spotted a shop front in a quaint little row of old buildings in a side street off the main drag, a few minutes walk away, and he could just see a mannequin in the front window that looked like it was still wearing clothes. An eyebrow twitched, ‘trust you to spot a leather shop.’ He slid his hand down her strong back and rounded ass and jingled her belt.

Charlie smirked up at him, ‘I love leather.’

He laughed.

They kept going, eyes and ears open, moving quietly past the mostly empty, disorganised shop fronts and boarded up or broken windows, staying in the shadows where they could and keeping talk to a minimum, just in case. But no one appeared, and the street, with its occasional abandoned and cannibalised car or truck remained empty of anyone or anything moving apart from Bass and Charlie and the crows. 

The birds appeared to be following them. This time they were perched on the chimney top of the corner building in the side street they were aiming for, watching them with a steady, unnerving stare.

Charlie drew her bow and aimed, not meaning to shoot, just a warning.

The crows squawked and flew away.

Bass huffed, ‘damned creepy things.’

‘They’re gone for now anyway.’ But Charlie kept her bow handy anyway.

As they drew closer to the shop, Bass chuckled. This had looked like such a genteel retirement and bedroom town. The sign painted above the bay window in faded and peeling red and black letters said ‘Red Hair and Black Leather – Tattoos, body piercing and leather goods.’ Miraculously the windows were unbroken and the peeling, wooden panelled, red-painted double doors still on their hinges, and secured with three, large, strong looking padlocks. All of them dark and weather stained but still solid. 

The mannequin had turned out to be a very well done painting inside the window of a beautiful woman with long, very red, luxuriously curling hair wearing what looked like a long, black leather duster, a tight, low cut bustier and leather pants with heavy biker boots to finish the look. A painted Motorbike with ‘Vincent Black Lightening’ written in lovingly flowing script on the shining black body was visible behind her.

Bass enjoyed the view for a moment. He’d ridden a Vincent Black Shadow once in Iraq, owned by a British officer who’d been there on an extended tour and he had totally enjoyed the experience of riding the big bike. He also seemed to remember hearing a song once about a red headed girl and a 1952 Vincent? He shrugged, all gone now. 

He turned to the beautiful, and real, girl beside him, whose dark honey coloured hair fell in long curls down her back and who was looking closely at the painted breasts, rising perkily and suspiciously large above the painted leather. 

He chuckled. ‘She’s probably wearing a push-up bra.’

Charlie shrugged, and squeezed her own breasts together for extra lift. ‘Maybe. I really need some new ones though, mine don’t have any push-up left in them.’

‘You never know your luck, Charlie.’ Bass dipped around to drop a kiss beside her full mouth. ’It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in there since the blackout. Incredible.’ He got out his multi-tool, put a foot on the single, worn, stone step up to the door and started working on the locks.

She peered in through the window, cupping her hand to see around the painting. There was what looked like a steel grille behind it and the window appeared to be glazed with reinforced glass. ‘Maybe there hasn’t been anyone, it looks like a fortress in there.’ She glanced back at him, ‘do you think the window’s bullet proof?’

He looked up from the lock and squinted at the glass, there were some faint marks on it that looked like someone had bashed it with something heavy, but it had stood up to everything without breaking. The door looked as though it had been pounded on a few times too. ‘Wouldn’t be surprised, but then they could have had thousands of dollars worth of leather in there, they’d have good security.’ He shrugged and went back to opening the padlock. ‘I guess people just gave up trying and found easier places to get into.’ There was a tiny click. ’I’ve nearly got this, I think.’ He gave a little grunt of satisfaction as the first padlock fell open.

Charlie turned around and did a quick check up and down the street – still nothing, except the fucking crows. The birds had come back and were on the roof of the building opposite, sitting silently. 

She met the eye of one of the pair as it turned its head sideways on to look at her and for a moment thought she saw a tiny flicker of green in its eye. A reflection maybe? She frowned. Crows were funny birds, very smart. Maybe they thought she and Bass had food and might share? She stuck her tongue out at it. Too bad, they could go catch their own. 

She turned away and swung the pack off her shoulders onto the ground, untying one of the oil lamps they’d brought with them and lighting it while Bass made short work of picking the remaining padlocks. 

The double doors to the shop opened at his push with a squeal of dry hinges.

Bass went in first after doing a quick visual check - it was darker inside of course, with dusty sunbeams coming in through the open door and through gaps in the painted window and the place smelled of dusty wood, paint and leather, lots and lots of leather. No sign of anyone having been in before them though, the place looked completely undisturbed. 

Charlie followed him in, bringing the lamp and her pack in with her and looked around while Bass shut the door, securing the door latch and double bolts top and bottom on the inside then lighting another lamp.

The room they were in was large, obviously converted from two smaller rooms, with a bare wooden floor, white walls and dusty white, decorative pressed tin ceiling. Curled wrought iron chandeliers hung from the centre points of the front and back sections of the room, each of them worth a fortune in the old world.

Along the walls to the left and right there were long double racks of clothes, each rack with its dust cover with more racks against the wall at the far end. The bottoms of shirts, jackets and pants showed underneath the covers, all in various shades of grey from the dust. 

At the mid point of the room on the left were stairs leading to an upper level, a little red and black sign above the first treads stating ‘Tatoos; upstairs’. Another set of stairs on the right at the back of the room had a sign that read, ‘Rest rooms, underwear, Cellar, downstairs’. There was another doorway at the very back of the room that said ‘Office – staff only.’ The door was closed.

A counter with a dusty Eftpos machine, a cash register and some rotating units displaying woven leather bracelets, necklaces with metal and stone charms and studded leather cuffs standing on it was to the right of the door with a couple of tall black stools visible behind the counter. In front of the bay window, a couple of feet away from the metal security grille and the picture of the woman, repeated in reverse so that the image was visible from inside as well as outside the shop, there were two small, black vinyl tub seats and a red rectangular coffee table with a couple of tidy piles of magazines at the end – the on top of one was a copy of ‘Inked’, the other pile seemed to be motorcycle magazines. 

Apart from the undisturbed layers of dust and the quiet, it all looked strangely as though it would be business as usual sometime soon and Bass felt another jab of profound nostalgia. He’d gone to somewhere a lot like this to get good bike leathers and his own tattoo. He rubbed the ridged scars on his left forearm. Long years and a whole lot of fucked up history ago.

Charlie looked around, her eyes bright and a smile twitching her lips, it was almost unheard of in her world to find shops that hadn’t been looted many times over the years and left bare and broken. This was like a slice of the history that Aaron kept telling them about. She picked up the eftpos machine, still attached by its cords to the register. ’What was this for?’

Bass glanced across at her, holding his lamp up so that he could see better. ‘That was the way people paid for things back then Charlie, it’s a computer that transferred money from the customer’s bank account to the shopkeeper’s to pay for whatever they wanted to buy. So they didn’t have to carry around diamonds and gold weights.’

She looked confused. ’But how did the shopkeeper know the buyer could pay if they couldn’t see their gold or diamonds?’

He grinned, shark like, ‘sometimes they didn’t.’

She put it back with a look of disdain, ‘seems like a weird way of doing things.’

He shrugged, ’Probably, it seemed like a good idea at the time though.’ He adjusted the flame on his lamp to a brighter setting, looking around. ’Let’s do a sweep, office first, then tattoos and finish off with the Cellar?’ 

Charlie nodded, picked up her pack and slung it over one shoulder, carrying her lamp in her free hand.

The office and staff bathroom were empty apart from the usual office equipment, desk, land-line phone, shelves of files and reference material and desk top computer. The door to the outside was locked and double bolted and didn’t look like it had been touched in years.

The upstairs room was similar. The cubicles with their trolley beds, black and red privacy curtains tied back, tattoo guns in their rests on stainless steel trolley’s were all silently waiting on red and black linoleum tiles for the next customer to choose a tattoo from the hundreds of designs displayed on the walls or in bound folders laid ready on a low table in the middle of the room… 

Bass was starting to feel a bit spooked. It was almost too quiet, everything a little too perfect…

They started down the stairs, Bass going first, the wooden banister looked firm but it was chancy trusting it or the treads after so long without maintenance so when he heard the tiny noise from downstairs he held his free hand up to stop Charlie then froze, steadying himself against the wall. They were both still a little too high to see anything much of the room below so he cautiously moved down another couple of treads and looked around. At the bottom of the stairs he saw a quick, fluttering flicker of movement – and relaxed, letting out the breath he’d been holding in a huff of air. ’It was just a rat, Charlie.’ 

Charlie relaxed, just a little, lowered her crossbow and picked up her lamp again. ’I hate rats.’ She shifted her pack and her bow into a more comfortable spot on her back and followed him down.

The rest rooms and cellar were next and Bass headed down the steep set of stairs into the much darker space below, lamp in one hand, sword in the other. Just in case.

Their two lamps lit up a cavernous space that seemed to go on forever, with multiple, pulsing reflections of the lamp lights tracing mysterious lines and curves in the huge, floor to ceiling, rectangular gold rococo framed mirrors that leaned against the walls around the room. In the centre was a large, crimson and black oval island couch, the black, back supports forming a smaller oval in the middle, the cushioned seats surrounding them like crimson petals on a huge flower, golden clawed feet resting on a black and red chequered floor the same as in the tattoo room. 

Around the walls between the huge mirrors were tall, narrow display units, their shelves and cupboards stacked with items of clothing, exotic high-heeled shoes, masks and other things that Charlie couldn’t identify but that made Bass lift an eyebrow, his lips twitching. They did a quick circuit and although there were some small things that had been slightly disturbed – most likely the work of rats or mice, it seemed to be clear.

At the bottom of the stairs and to the right were two doors – a universal male symbol on one and a female symbol on the other, the rooms behind the doors empty as well and still stocked with rolls of disintegrating toilet paper, rusted cans of air freshener and congealed hand wash in the dispensers. There were assorted vending machines in each rest room as well, but the contents were perished and sad looking, Bass shrugged, he hadn’t expected anything different but it would have been nice to have some little conveniences…

Charlie started looking in the cupboards and shelves around the room for things they could use or trade, making a pile of finds on that side of the couch, the light from her lamp dancing in the mirrors as she moved around.

Bass left her to it for a minute, put his lamp on the table in the centre of the island couch, brushed as much of the dust off the cushions as he could then sat down with a sigh, resting his head back and stretching his legs out in front of him. He looked up at the ceiling, there were mirrors up there too. He laughed at a thought. All they needed was the pink champagne on ice. He shut his eyes and relaxed back into the unaccustomed and almost forgotten comfort of soft cushions.

Charlie was having a great time. She’d found some underwear that she was dying to try on, and some cute leather pants, a couple of tops like the one in the picture of the red haired woman and a few jackets. And some absolutely fantastic boots.  
Bass had his eyes closed, but was aware of gasps and sighs as she moved around the room, and then the sound of buttons and the thumps of things hitting the cushions. He cracked an eye open. ‘What are you doing Charlie?’

‘Don’t look yet Bass’ her voice, bubbling with laughter came from behind him. 

He opened his eyes the whole way, and saw her wavy and indistinct reflection in the mirror in front of him. He frowned, what the hell was she wearing? He was suddenly wide-awake.

Charlie smoothed the leather over her hips and adjusted her breasts inside the leather cups of the bustier she’d found, then bent over forwards, fluffing her hair up so that it fell in tumbled, heavy waves around her shoulders when she stood up, staggering a tiny bit. She wasn’t used to wearing heels but the boots had been a temptation she couldn’t resist - and they just happened to be her size.

She looked in the mirror, except for the colour of her hair, and in this light it was difficult to tell the colour anyway, she looked a lot like the red haired woman in the picture, and she felt amazing. The black and shiny leather pieces were such good quality and had been packed so carefully that they had survived the years with almost no sign of damage. The pants, narrow with black lacing at the waist and down the sides were snug in all the right places and even though it had taken a bit of effort to get them on their little secret made it totally worth it…and they made her legs look a mile long. 

The bustier pushed her breasts up, making them seem full and ripe, showing off her narrow waist, the strip of uncovered flesh between it and the pants gleaming and provocative, revealing little glimpses of her belly button when she moved. She’d found a thigh length black jacket too, close fitting and flaring out from the waist. And then there were the boots, ankle high and black of course. Soft, thin heeled and slightly pointed, totally impractical but they made her feel so tall and when she walked her hips swayed and her thighs just brushed each other, squeezing her clit at every movement. She wriggled, just for fun, it was almost as good as fingers… 

She remembered Maggie talking about the fun of shopping for clothes, but she hadn’t believed her, not really, clothes had always been practical, realistic and makeshift, and very rarely new, although she’d seen women in Georgia in dresses and good clothes and had wondered a little how it would be to buy and wear things just because they looked good. But to just find stuff like this was amazing, incredible luck. Bass had never seen her in anything but jeans, tank and jacket. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he saw her like this.

She strode around the couch. The high heels felt strange and exotic and she was hyper aware of the sway of her hips and back, her buttocks and thighs tensing and releasing, the slight strain on her calves and the pressure on the balls of her feet as she moved around the big couch and stood in front of him, a little smile playing around her lips. She bent one knee, taking up the pose of the woman in the picture.

Bass was lying sprawled over the cushions, shirt pulled tight over his broad, tightly muscled chest, long, strong arms flung out across the tops of the chair backs, the scars on his left forearm just visible above the bandana he always wore. His long legs were splayed out and relaxed, the bulge at their apex framed by the thin fabric of his jeans. He looked decadent and very alpha male on the velvet cushions. A barbaric, rough invader in that soft place…

She raked him with hot eyes, lips curved in satisfaction then slowly swept her gaze back up, her breath catching when she saw his face. 

His eyes were wide open, vivid, electric blue and fixed on her, his lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them. 

She tilted her head and her smile widened into a grin, dimple flashing. Good, he liked it.

Bass felt his mouth drop open and his dick spring to immediate attention, his pants suddenly way, way too tight. His eyes swept her from top to toe leaving a tingling trail behind them, ‘Charlie you are a total fucking, wet dream.’

‘Glad you like it,’ Charlie looked down at him, at Sebastian Monroe. Bass. Once her enemy, now her lover, her partner in bed and battle. She licked her lips, eyes sparkling with anticipation and she started to shimmy out of the jacket, slowly working it down over her shoulders while she swayed her hips a little from side to side, thighs making little sounds as the leather rubbed, careful of her balance in the high boots. Then she reached behind her, the movement spilling her breasts out over the top of her bustier, pulling one of the jacket sleeves down and off, then the other and letting the coat fall to the floor in a dark pool around her feet. She placed her hands on her hips and slowly turned in a circle, peering back at him over her shoulder through dark golden strands of hair as she moved…

Bass stretched out as he watched her, a smile playing around his lips and one of his hands on his thigh, stroking up and down, the other was spread out over the rapidly growing bulge of his cock beneath the threadbare fabric of his jeans, his long fingers tense… 

Charlie felt the heat of his gaze as it sizzled over the newly exposed skin of her arms, shoulders and the top of her breasts, it felt good, really, really good. His tongue darted out to run around his lips and Charlie felt her eyes drawn to his mouth. She wanted his lips on her so much, right now. The rest of him too. 

Time to show him her surprise. 

She ran her hands slowly over her breasts then down over the front of the bustier to the low-slung waistband of the pants. There were little buttons on each side of the waist – two at the front and two at the back and she flipped them open then took her hands away. The strip of leather held up by the buttons slipped down between her thighs to the floor to join the jacket and leaving her legs encased in leather with a narrow strip continuing up either hip to the waistband, the pale skin of her belly and her pussy with its dark golden curls totally exposed and standing out in stark contrast against the black leather. 

Charlie grinned at the look of total, absolute lust on Bass’ face, then twirled around on the balls of her feet to show him her back, revealing the pale, perfect ovals of her ass, framed in black leather strips and totally bare.

She heard a gasp from behind her and suddenly he was there, his hot hard body pressed up behind her, his breath on her neck, lips pressing hungry kisses to the sensitive skin there, his tongue running a searing line down to her shoulder. Excitement pooled between her legs, anticipation catching her breath in her throat, her heart pounding.

His hands were hard on her hips, the fingers gripping and pulling her ass back against the velvet hardness of his dick, liberated now, ready and oh so willing. He slid one hand down the front of her, pressing his fingers through her curls, cupping her pussy in his big hand, one finger sliding through her wet folds and over the little ridge of her clit while his other hand was hard on her back, stroking down between her ass cheeks, his fingers spreading her wide.

She gasped as he circled her clit from the front and thrust into her soft, wet folds from behind, his fingers making squishing sounds she was so wet. She was taller in the boots and he seemed to be able to reach farther and deeper. She clamped her leather clad thighs together over his wrists as her whole body spasmed into sweet, sweet sensation around his fingers. 

He laughed, the sound low and husky with satisfaction, his breath hot in her ear. ‘Charlie, you look like dinner in those eat me pants.’ He swung around and dropped to his knees in front of her, running his hands up the front of the boots up her legs and up to her hips and ass, his long fingers holding her tightly in place in front of him, thumbs stroking the delicate skin of her belly. Then he looked up at her and licked his lips, bringing his hands down and running them between her legs and behind to cup her ass cheeks, pulling her forward towards his waiting mouth, ’and I really need to taste you.’ 

He pulled her towards him a little bit more and Charlie felt her knees start to buckle as his tongue slid between her pussy lips and over her clit, and as he sucked and played with her she had to lean her hands on his shoulders to keep upright. 

He laughed against her, the laugh vibrating through her until she saw stars and leaned panting against him. But he wasn’t finished. He pulled back a little and slid one arm under her thigh, lifting until her knee bent over his shoulder, holding her up while her other leg trembled and almost gave out. But the position gave him much more access and he feasted on her, his lips and tongue sucking and tasting, slipping and nibbling, warm and so, so clever. He held her there with one arm while the other moved up to support the rest of her, pulling her closer. The tips of his fingers came close to her mouth and she sucked and bit down on them, helpless as she came and came in brilliant flashes of sensation, only vaguely aware of the bristles of his beard and moustache scraping lightly at the sensitised bud of her clit as he moved up and away.

Bass let her leg down, stood up and kissed her, his lips and tongue hard, demanding and she could taste her own spicy juices on them.Then he stepped back a little and turned her towards the wall, his cock a hard ridge against her ass, his voice low and hoarse. ’Look…’

She looked in the mirror and there they both were, bathed in the bright light and dark shadows thrown by the lamps. Bass still so much taller than her, even with her boots, his powerful, lean body outlined behind her, and she, looking thoroughly made love to, half naked, her hair mussed and tangled into a shining mass, her body shining in black except for her shoulders and arms, and her pussy glowing pale.

’You look perfect Charlie,’ 

She met his eyes in the mirror, leaned her head back against his shoulder and rubbed her ass against the hard ridge of his cock. ’I want to be able to see us while you’re fucking me, Bass,’ her belly clenched at the thought, her mind blowing…

His low, male laugh hummed over her skin. ’I like that idea,’ he stroked his hands up and down her body, from her breasts to her thighs, ’if you get down on your hands and knees on the couch you’ll be able to see us in the mirror.’ 

Charlie somehow got her legs under control and took the couple of steps to the couch, looking back at Bass over her shoulder. 

He was watching her, his hand gripping the long, thick length of his cock, slowly pumping. He kept watching as she settled herself on her hands and knees on the cushions where he’d been lying. Then he followed her, the heat from his body radiating out like a furnace.

She felt the cushions sink as he knelt behind her and in the mirror she could see him guide his cock towards her, feel the thickness of him entering and stretching her out at the same time as she saw it, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he watched them too. Then he grasped her hips in both hands and slid himself all the way in. 

Charlie thrust herself back towards him to get more and more and more of him until it was almost too much, too big, too thick. She was filled to the brim, spread out around his length as he plunged in and out. She heard her own rasping breath and forgot about the mirror, could hear his rough pants and feel his pleasure growing with hers as he changed rhythm, rough, fast and hard then smooth and so slow she ached with it, her pleasure building like a river rushing over rapids towards a fall. 

He plunged into her one more time, held himself still for one long, long moment, his hands so tight on her flesh she was going to have bruises, then he groaned and pulled out, spilling himself in pale, curling streams over the crimson and black cushions. 

Her mouth open in a soundless scream of pleasure, Charlie collapsed onto the velvet softness that smelled of dust, old perfume, sweat and sex, her own orgasm leaving her boneless, his body falling like a sweet, panting, welcome weight beside her. 

Bass landed with his face close to the soft globes of Charlotte’s ass and he rubbed his cheek on them, the scruff of his beard catching on her skin. 

She laughed, too spent to move. ’Bass, that tickles…’

He chuckled back, doing it again, ’Can’t help it Charlie, you have a beautiful ass.’ He leaned up on one arm and ran his hand over the soft cheeks. ’And I love these pants.’ He leaned forward and nibbled then kissed her ass cheeks as she wriggled underneath him, helpless, her laugh raising dust that made them both sneeze. 

…………………………………

 

A little later, Bass and Charlie were back in the ground floor room by the double doors, almost ready to leave ‘Red Hair and Black Leather’. They had rigged up a hauling sled out of bits and pieces of shop fittings and one of the trolley beds and it was piled high with things they could wear or trade, including several pairs of the black pants and a few other special little things. 

Charlie had packed the heeled ankle boots, although she’d found a couple of pairs of good, sturdy flat ones too. All in all it had been good hunting. She grinned up at him, eyes gleaming. ’Hey, you ready?’ 

He grinned back at her, enjoying the view and feeling like a lucky man. Then he looked out of the window to check the road. It looked clear and empty, all good. ’When you are Charlie.’ 

As they made their way back to the wagon through the quiet, sunlit streets, nothing else moved that wasn’t blown by the wind. 

The crows were still around though, perched back on their branch in the old oak tree… 

Bass nodded at them as he and Charlie passed by, dragging the sled along behind them, and for one strange moment he thought that the birds nodded back, their heads with the sharp beaks dipping in unison, bright eyes unblinking and glinting green. 

Then he forgot about them as Charlie passed him a piece of jerky along with a grin and a promise in her blue eyes that had his toes curling and his dick twitching, and it was a fucking good day to be alive.

…………………………………..

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I had fun writing and reviewing it (I love writing 'on the road' stories!!). And I’m pretty sure it must almost be Lemon’s birthday again lol! So birthday fun and good wishes for you, Lemon - and for Charlie and Bass. I nearly have the final chapters of 'A thousand islands' finished too but this one kind of just jumped out at me... cheers, Magpie


End file.
